Coming to Terms
by the.terrorist
Summary: Yoh/Anna. It is hard for both of them to understand that the easy life they have expected is simply not going to happen.


He caught a whiff of her perfume as she stalked past him into the hotel room, long blonde hair falling down her back in soft curls.

She came to a stop in front of the couch, and turned around, grey sweater-dress twirling around her creamy thighs. Arms crossed over her chest, expression set in a bored, yet still slightly annoyed undertone, she watched as she shut the door behind him and followed her into the main room, before speaking in a monotonous tone, "There is only one bed."

Yoh heaved a sigh.

Her amber eyes, darkened by make-up, bored into his—challenging him, daring him to speak up and defend his interests. She enjoyed watching him squirm, that was for sure.

"Anna," he started, feeling the first signs of exasperation beginning to tug at him, "I know you're mad. I understand. I _know_ I haven't been the best husband, but I'm _trying_!"

Her eyebrows rose, and he wanted to tear his hair out.

"I am!" he defended. "While you're just sitting around, yelling at me, never losing an opportunity to tell me how wrong I've been!"

"That's bull and you know it," she remarked in a calm, no-nonsense tone she had taken a liking to using on him.

"Anna!" he whined. "You promised!"

Her dark eyes flashed. "I promised I would try to save our marriage, but not by _sleeping_ with you!"

"Sleeping in the same bed does not necessarily mean we have to have sex!"

"You'd love that, though, wouldn't you?"

Yoh paled. He knew this type of trap questions all too well. "Well, yeah, b—but—" he spluttered.

"Ugh, men!" she groaned, stalking into the bedroom, "You are all the same, I swear!"

The last sound he heard was that of the door slamming shut behind her.

**-x-x-x-**

When she emerged from the bathroom half an hour later, Yoh was peeling his shirt off his body. Her face was clean of cosmetic products, and her blonde hair was damp. She was dressed in a set of black, lace-trimmed pajamas—a tank top and a pair of boy-shorts—that hugged her curves and left her petite body exposed to the slight chill in the air.

Leaning against the doorway with one hand, she watched him—amber eyes veiled by an unreadable emotion—and for a moment, he thought she looked vulnerable. She was expecting him to do something, to say something, and he knew perfectly well that he should, but he had no idea what. He was walking on eggshells with her again, and it was almost as though he had forgotten how it was like. He couldn't give her that explanation, though, because the conclusion she would reach would be simple—and truer than anything else.

He swallowed. "I like your pajamas," he blurted out without thinking.

Anna huffed an amused breath upon hearing that, a small smile lighting up her features at his idiotic attempt at a conversation. "They reminded me of that time when…" she started to say, but she trailed off, her entire demeanor changing and her subtle smile disappearing as she straightened her posture and crossed her arms over her chest once more. "Well?" she asked. "What side of the bed are you choosing?"

"Here we go again," he sighed—disappointed, exasperated, and downright exhausted. "You're so damn stubborn, Anna…"

"Well, if you can't make a decision, then you can have all of it!" she snapped, before angrily stomping out of the bedroom, leaving him to groan out loud behind her.

"Anna," he called, following her into the living room. He found her pulling a blanket from a nearby closet, a pillow already set in place on the couch. He resisted the urge to either scream out in frustration or pull her to him and kiss her senseless. It was amazing how quickly this woman would make him lose his composure. "We will never get _anywhere_ with that attitude of yours," he resumed at saying.

Anna shot him a glare as she dumped the blanket onto the couch, her hands coming to rest on her hips. "I'd say you should be careful with the words that are coming out of your mouth, because you're blaming me right now, and we all know that the only one who is at fault here is you!" she accused, her eyes glimmering with unconcealed anger.

"At least I'm trying to make things better!" he shot back.

"You should wonder why it's not working," she remarked casually, before flopping down on the couch and pulling the thin blanket over her.

"I will," he responded softly from the doorway. "Maybe you should do the same."

He switched the light off then, and left her in the dark, wearing an unconcealed expression of shock on her features. She quickly recovered. She huffed in annoyance, before promptly lowering herself to the mattress, and making herself comfortable.

Asakura Anna was not one to give in—especially when she knew perfectly well that she was right—and she refused to let a couple of words rattle her resolve.

Asakura Yoh, on the other hand, was a different story—and in a state much worse. Sure, he knew she had a right to be mad at him. She had a right to hate him even, he mused as he lied down on the king-sized bed, considering how volatile Anna was when it came to emotions, how strongly she lived and felt them.

It had been nearly a year since he had fulfilled his lifetime dream and became Shaman King. One would think that would be the end of all of their problems—and he had strongly believed so. Until he was forced to realize that, with great power, came great responsibility, and that the weight of the entire world now rested on _his_ shoulders. To a certain degree, that was alright, because he _wanted_ to help people. But it was also difficult, because it was clear that the lazy, easy life he had imagined was simply not going to happen. Anna was beginning to realize that, too. It seemed like it was harder for her to accept it, though.

He was gone a lot. He was gone for much more time than either of them had expected. There were duties he had to attend to, tasks to complete, millions of things to do. The last time, he had been away for nearly three months straight, without the possibility of a call, of a letter, of a text-message, and his young wife felt rightfully neglected.

She used to be more understanding about these things, he remembered as he started at the shadows spreading over the darkened ceiling, one arm slung over his head, another lying on his stomach. But the circumstances had been different in the past, as well, and everything with Anna had a limit. He was Shaman King—alright. The entire world depended on him—yes. He had no possibility to contact her—fine. But she was his wife, and she deserved a bit of his time and attention, too. Time and attention that he had denied her for far too long.

She seemed reluctant to actually _allow_ him to offer her that—choosing instead to continue to be mad at him, even after he had apologized time and time again. She had made it clear that she was upset from the very first moment he had set foot inside Funbari Inn a week prior, and Yoh had gone out of his way to please her, to earn her forgiveness, even going as far as bringing her along on one of his many trips. She was still quite obviously mad, though—and had made her feelings about having to share a hotel room with him clearly known.

He found it ridiculous, really, because even though she refused to admit it, they were both trying to do nothing else but mend what had been broken in their marriage.

It was obvious things were not going to be as easy as he'd thought they would be.

He barely slept that night. He would close his eyes and drift off to sleep; then he would wake up thinking that it was already morning, that hours had passed, only to look beside him and realize that it had only been a couple of minutes—ten at most, on the rare times when he was lucky.

Opening his eyes, he glanced at the digital clock once more—2:23 AM.

Heaving a quiet sigh, he sat up and, throwing the covers off him, silently got out of bed. He padded out on the door and down the hallway, into the living room.

Unlike him, his wife seemed to have no problem of that kind. She was sleeping peacefully, the blanket covering her up to her waist, blonde hair spread over the pillow and her bare shoulders. Her long lashes brushed against her cheeks, and her chest rose and fell with her even breaths. Despite the circumstances, Yoh found it impossible to hide a smile at the sight of her.

It had always been a secret pleasure of his—watching her sleep. Seeing her peaceful and vulnerable, without that scowl etched on her pretty features, without that burning glare, without those scathing words, without the frowns and the monsters that haunted her, without the ghosts of the past looming over her, resting on her shoulders.

Crouching down beside the couch, he reached out to brush a lock of blonde hair away from her face. "You just don't know when to give up, do you?" he whispered, watching her sleeping form with a fond look in his eyes.

Releasing yet another sigh, Yoh stood up. Removing the blanket from over her, he gently slipped his arms underneath her petite body and easily lifted her up, cradling her to his chest. She was tired enough not to wake up. Instead, she unconsciously snuggled up to him, burying her face into his bare chest.

Hiding a smile into her fragrant hair, he took her to the bedroom, where he gently lowered to her lay on the more comfortable mattress. Anna stirred, but didn't wake up, shifting lightly instead and snuggling further into the pillow. Covering her with the duvet, he smoothed the hair away from her face and laid a soft kiss on her forehead, before straightening and resignedly trailing out of the room.

Lying down on the couch, he pulled the blanket over him, resting his head on the still warm pillow. Sleep came easily for him then.

**-x-x-x-**

When Anna woke up later that night, she could hardly recognize her surroundings. She was not at home, and she had known that, but she was not where she was supposed to be, either.

It took her a while to realize that she was in the hotel bedroom. It took her even more than that to comprehend just what that meant.

Frowning, she peeled the warm covers off her and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, standing up. Following a well known path into the living room, she was not surprised to see Yoh sleeping in her place on the couch. Leaning against the doorway, she bit down on her lower lip, her amber eyes soft. She had known that he was not mad at her. He had told her off—and in quite a way, at that—but Yoh sometimes did that, and he very rarely meant anything by it. She had not expected him to do something like this, though. Looking back, she wondered why she had not. After all, he had been treating her like a princess for the past three days. But she was not a girl to be moved by presents and wining and dining. And now, she finally felt that she needed no more proof of his love.

Padding softly to the couch, she slipped under the blanket with him, snuggling close to his warm body. As if instinctively knowing that she was there, his arm wrapped around her, making her smile. Leaning her head on his chest, she allowed the steady thump, thump, thump of his heart to lull her into a peaceful sleep.

* * *

><p>I always thought the Shaman King should travel a lot. Which is how this plot was born. Which is how <em>countless<em> other ideas were born, ideas which I plan on posting in the near future. Hopefully.

Anyway. Pictures of Anna's outfits on my profile, and of her make-up on my blog. What can I say? I always think of everything when I write a story. Haha!

Review, please!


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